Independence
by OreAmerika
Summary: Scotland threatening independence. Literally the worst summary I've ever written, but it's pretty self explanatory.


**Hey guys! I'm at a block with Is This Wrong? right now, and now that college is in full swing I haven't really been writing anything for fun. Well, as I was typing an essay, my friend brought this up to me and I felt the need to write it. So shout-out to goldstar5 for the idea! **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters. Hetalia belongs to Himaruya. **

*****WARNING:*** Alcohol abuse is mentioned, if that triggers anything for you, do not read the last two paragraphs.**

Independence

The dawn light filtered through the pale curtains, the soft glow giving a peaceful appearance to the otherwise dark room. Shuffling through the semi-darkness, teacup in hand, Arthur Kirkland flicked on the small lap next to his favorite chair. The lamp made a soft click before filling the room with soft yellow light; Arthur squinted slightly as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He sipped his tea; the steam hitting his face and the smell of his favorite tea relaxing him instantly. Before settling into his chair, the blond man turned on the radio that was sitting on the other end table. A man's voice was emitted from the radio, his tone hushed, as though there was a sleeping child in the next room. Arthur preferred the radio in the morning; the television was too bright right after waking up, and it reminds Arthur of the time before televisions existed. _A simpler time, _Arthur thought as he settled into his chair, which greeted him like an old friend. A peaceful sigh escaped Arthur's lips as he leaned back into the chair, holding his teacup in his hands, holding it to his lips for a moment before taking a sip.

The sun had risen enough to wake the bird by his window, its beautiful song adding to the serene atmosphere surrounding the man. "I need more mornings like this one," Arthur said to no one in particular. Calm mornings were always hard to come by. It was difficult to be a nation sometimes, the stress was more than any human being wouldn't be able to handle, and the constant changes in political relationships can really take a toll. At least some of them have remained the same throughout the years. France annoyed him to no end, and even though he hated him sometimes, France made his way onto the small list of friends England had accumulated through the years. Arthur smirked, a breathless laugh escaping as he thought about who he considered his friends.

France "Francis Bonnefoy":Childhood rival turned to friend (still bloody annoying though)

America "Alfred F. Jones": Ex-colony. Still a little tense during July (also annoying and _so loud_)

Norway "Lukas Bondevik": became friends during WWII. Mutual love of magic.

England sat for a moment. He had more than three friends…didn't he? Who was he forgetting? He drank more of his tea, contemplating who he could've forgotten. _Australia? Independent or not, he's more of a brother. China? We're not exactly friends, per se… oh!_ England added the new name to the list.

Canada "Matthew Williams":Ex-colony. (Too quiet for his own good)

England nodded to himself. That's better. A fluffy being floated into his field of vision, "Not including my magical friends, of course!" England added quickly. That seemed to have sedated the green puffball, her pout transforming into a smile before disappearing. He lifted the teacup to his lips again, discovering it was empty. The light the curtains let in was considerably brighter than it had been before, and the hushed voice on the radio had turned into a loud man and a giggly woman, talking about pop culture. He sighed, standing up to put his teacup in the kitchen and shutting the radio off as he crossed the room. He glanced at the clock in the kitchen, the time reading 8:30. Arthur supposed it was time to turn on the television anyway. He walked back into the other room, reaching over to turn on the television when a four-note chime rang through his home.

_Who could be here this early in the morning? _Arthur thought, glancing down at his pajamas before looking ruefully at the door. The doorbell rang again. "Just a moment!" he called before dashing to his room, throwing on tan slacks and a white button down shirt. He reached for a tie, but the annoying sound of the doorbell stopped him. _Forget the tie, whoever this is can deal. _He glanced at his reflection, forcing a smile before walking over to the door and pulling it open. "Can I- Allistor?" He looked up at his redheaded older brother. The older man looked tense, as though he was hiding something important. "Good morning, is there something you nee- Alfred?!" England stopped short for the second time, looking behind his brother at the blue eyes of his former colony. Alfred smiled at the Englishman, but the smile seemed shallow, forced. England narrowed his eyes, looking back at his brother.

"England. I need to talk to you." Allistor said. Alfred nodded behind the Scotsman, no longer looking at England, choosing instead to look at the Converse underneath his suit pants… _a suit?! America never wears a suit._ England watched the American tug on the gray suit jacket, obviously uncomfortable.

England stared at the American in confusion._ Where's that bomber jacket he loves so much?_ "Come on in then" Arthur said, standing aside to allow the two men to walk into his home. "Would either of you care for some tea?" he asked. He may be suspicious of them, but that doesn't mean he'd be rude. America's face contorted in disgust; he's always hated tea.

Allistor shook his head, "I'm keeping this quick," England nodded curtly. They didn't exactly have the best relationship.

"What can I do for you two?" England sat at his kitchen table, gesturing for the other nations to do the same. "I don't really see you two together that often." England laughed, but it was hollow. "What are you doing here, America?"

America gave a half-smile, but the sinking of his shoulders alerted the older nation of the American's discomfort. "Moral support." England narrowed his eyes again. Why would Scotland need moral support?

"Listen England. I'm tired of being beneath you. I want my freedom." Allistor's accent was thick, but every word hit England like a slap in the face. "I'm leaving the United Kingdom. I'm going to declare independence as soon as possible."

"_Hey Britain. All I want is my freedom." America shouted, pointing his gun toward England. "I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother. From now on, consider me independent!"_

England gasped, the horrid memory flashing before his eyes. "No. I won't allow it." England's eyes widened, realizing that he had said those words all those years ago. America stiffened, probably thinking about the same thing.

"It's not up to you." Scotland looked at him, leaning forward, his voice rising slightly. "I just figured I would inform you."

"No. It is up to me. I'm the main member of the United Kingdom, and I said _you're going nowhere_."

"You're a spoiled brat and I'm tired of being grouped together with the likes of _you!" _Allistor stood, his chair sliding against the floor, the sound hurting the Englishman's ears. "I'm out of here. Goodbye Arthur." Allistor walked to the front of the house, slamming the door for good measure.

America stared in the direction of the door. This didn't go nearly as well as he was hoping. England looked up at the American "Leave."

"Arthur I-"

"Just. _Go."_

America sighed. "Okay. Just… if you need to talk, just gimme a call, alright?" England felt a hand on his shoulder. He refused to look up again. "Arthur. It's for the best." America squeezed the Englishman's shoulder before walking toward the door. "Bye Artie."

Once the door shut, the house was completely silent. England stayed where he was, too devastated to move. "Why…" England didn't realize his knees gave out until he was on his hands and knees on the wooden floor of his kitchen. His eyes burned as tears clouded his vision. "Why does everyone _leave me?_" Even his older brother wants nothing to do with him. "I'm a sorry excuse for a brother. My little brothers all left me. My older brother is leaving too…. I can't. I can't do this anymore!" England rolled onto his back, staring up at the cream colored ceiling above him. The tears were still rolling freely down the sides of his face, some of them dripping into his ears.

Once the tears stopped, Arthur stood, his body complaining as he forced himself to get up. His joints popped and a dull ache washed over him, _how long was I on the floor? _Arthur decided he didn't really care. He crossed his kitchen, reaching in the cupboard for his bottle of rum. He considered grabbing a glass, but changed his mind, gulping straight from the bottle, the alcohol making his throat burn the same way his eyes were. Arthur grabbed another bottle of…some kind of alcohol (frankly, Arthur didn't care what it was) and walked back into the other room, flopping into his chair and succeeding in smacking his front teeth with the opening of the rum bottle. Arthur swore, touching his teeth with his fingers before looking at his hand. His fingers were still pale, glistening slightly from his saliva, but no sign of blood.

Arthur grunted, lifting the bottle to his lips again. His vision blurred as he opened the second bottle, which turned out to be vodka. He was hurt, his family was gone. He was a terrible brother, nobody wanted to be around him, and frankly, Arthur didn't want to be around himself either. Eventually, the absurd amount of alcohol in his bloodstream got to him, and he passed out, tearstains on his cheeks and Allistor's name on his lips.

**Okay guys, I'm thought this was only going to be a one-shot, but I feel like this is a good place to break it up, before I write the second part. Reviews would be wonderful! **

**Thanks for reading!**

**~OreAmerika**


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